


There's No Accounting for Taste

by karrenia_rune



Category: Gargoyles (TV)
Genre: Community: fanfic100, Gen, Interior Decorating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:52:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fox sets out to do some interior decorating of the Eyrie Building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Accounting for Taste

Disclaimer: Gargoyles belongs to Disney and Buena Vista  
Televison, and is the creation of Greg Weisman; it is not mine.  
words: 560  
Prompt #39 taste

 

There’s No Accounting for Taste by Karrenia

Owen Burnett supervised the unloading of the delivery truck on the first floor of the Eyrie Building, his manner brisk, precise, and efficient as always. 

In the background the business of downtown Manhattan continued unabated even for the late evening hour. There was nothing at all unusual in that, Owen thought, the only thing odd about this entire delivery is the nature of the merchandise. After all, he muttered aloud, ‘What does one buy the wealthiest man on the Atlantic seaboard.?”

A piece of masonry plummeted down from above, and Owen deftly stepped out of the way, rolling his eyes and sighing as he quickly glanced up and up, at the mound of the crumbling ruins of the castle perched on the rooftop of the modern day sky scrapper. “It would seem our tenants are waking up for the night.”

He accepted the cardboard clipboard that one of the delivery men handed to him for his signature, and Owen carefully went over the checklist of items ordered. Several solid blocks of Italian marble, Opal, and glass framed wall mirrors, one silk tiger-patterned ottoman, a sunken lion-footed antique bathtub.

Owen sighed and sighed the itemized list with the pen attached to the clipboard, in his customary, elegant, and perfectly legible signature. In the back of his mind, Owen thought, ‘There’s no accounting for taste.’

Fox came out of the foyer, with baby Alexander in her arms, and Owen turned his attention back to the task at hand. “Did you double check the measurements of the olivine granite for the kitchen counters, Owen?” she asked.

“Indeed, Mrs. Xanatos,” replied Owen. “Everything has been checked to your exact specifications. “Did you wish it sent directly up and installed, or do you want until tomorrow morning?”

“Do you suppose we could get some help with the heavy lifting?” she asked, her own gaze lifting skyward.

“They might be amenable, “ Owen replied, “If approached in the right manner, but I would not take it for granted.”

“I think David will be pleased,” Fox nodded. “I’ve been wanting to renovate some o those horribly drafty rooms for ever so long.”

“Indeed,” Owen remarked. “Is Mister Xanatos aware of the plans for this evening?”

“No,“ replied Fox, “I would prefer to keep it that way.” 

She smiled. “Between just you and me, I’ll have you know Owen, it’s something of an ongoing contest between us, which of us can keep a surprise from the other.”

“I think I understand,” remarked Owen thoughtfully. 

“David has always been a fine one for surprises, both good and bad,” Fox said, jiggling baby Alex up and down when it looked as if he was about to cry and instead changed into a series of coos. “Even before when he was just the guy who signed our paychecks with the Pack. “Although he did want to be the one doing the surprising. 

“Will this party be for the immediate family only and invited guests, then?”

“Just a small gathering,” Fox agreed. “Owen, bring the stuff up in the freight elevator and have it stored in the storage room off the main balcony. 

“As you wish,” Owen nodded.

“Thank you, Owen,” Fox smiled. “I’ll come and sort it out tomorrow morning. It’s getting late, and I’d best put Alex to bed.”

“Good night, Mrs. Xanatos,” Owen offered.

“Good night, Owen, and thank you.”


End file.
